Absent Friends
by B.A. Tyler
Summary: Just a few days after B.J. arrives at the 4077th, he and Hawkeye spend an afternoon fishing and reflecting on the loss of a good man.


**Author's Notes:** Takes place soon after B.J. arrives in Korea, let's say within his first week. Includes spoilers for the episode "The Trial of Henry Blake."

"_I fished with this a couple of times. Hawk told me it belonged to Col. Blake. It's for all the men who never made it home." —B.J. Hunnicutt, contributing a fishing lure to the time capsule, in the episode "As Time Goes By."_

* * *

**Absent Friends**

For the first time in days, B.J. heard… practically nothing. Oh, the birds were singing, and the stream was gurgling, but apart from that, there was a blissful lack of noise out here in their little fishing spot. He could almost be persuaded that he was back home in California and not in the middle of the Korean War.

Almost.

Of course he knew better. His new reality—living in a tent in Korea, so close to the fighting, almost constantly on alert for the next round of choppers bringing him fresh wounded—was at the forefront of his mind every waking moment. But today, out here in nature, with the sun shining and the breeze blowing—and the fish hopefully biting—he was feeling awfully close to content.

"Here you go," Hawkeye said, interrupting his reverie, as he handed B.J. a lure from the tackle box. There was a beat before Hawk added, "It's weird… a lot of this is Henry's stuff. That lure, for instance… that was his." His gaze suddenly flicked away from B.J.'s face, but not before B.J. saw the tears forming.

B.J. stared at the lure for a long moment, thinking about a man he'd never met but could very much identify with. Henry had thought he was going home, had been ecstatic about seeing his wife and kids again, but then fate had dealt him a monumentally unfair blow. To have served all that time at the 4077th, escaping the horror and the danger of that nightmare, only to be killed on his way home… it was obscene. B.J. shuddered, then placed the lure on his fishing pole, feeling inadequate in a way he couldn't have explained if he tried.

Finally he said, "I'm sorry." It was so long after Hawkeye's last statement that it seemed like a non sequitur, except for the fact that Hawkeye clearly understood what he meant.

"Yeah, me too," Hawkeye said softly, his eyes back on B.J. He smiled sadly and busied himself preparing his own rod. "He was… well, he was really something, that guy."

Casting his line, B.J. cautiously asked, "His wife had a son while he was serving over here? Didn't you tell me that?"

Hawkeye nodded. "Yeah, that's right. A boy who will never meet his dad."

B.J. heard the catch in Hawkeye's voice. "Shit. I can't even imagine…" He shook his head, thinking of his precious baby girl and how much he loved and missed her. He glanced over at Hawkeye, who was finally casting his own line into the water. He wanted to say he was sorry again, but it seemed like such an empty word.

Instead he let the silence blanket them as they both took seats on the bank of the stream, ready to wait out the fish. They should've been in good spirits, away from the hospital and with the whole afternoon stretched out in front of them… fishing and relaxing in the sun the only items on the agenda. But the mood was somber, with the ghost of Col. Blake settling in next to them. B.J. thought back to the other night, only his third in camp, when he'd been unable to sleep thanks to the constant barrage of artillery in the distance, so he'd gone to the mess tent with his notepad and written out his will. A 28-year-old man with a newborn, writing out his will. He'd never even considered the idea before, and there he was, in Korea only a matter of days, and already he was ruminating about death.

After all, Col. Blake had fully expected to get on that plane to the States and be back in his family's arms in no time, and look what happened to him. The only thing you could be sure of in this place, B.J. had quickly learned, was that you couldn't be sure of anything.

"You wanna hear my favorite Henry story?" Hawkeye said after such a lengthy pause that B.J. jumped a little at the sound of his voice.

"Sure."

The corners of Hawkeye's mouth curved up as he spoke, that familiar gleam sparking in his eyes. "Burns and Houlihan pressed charges against him at one point… you're utterly shocked, I know. They said Henry was unfit for command, that he was giving aid and comfort to the enemy. Henry went before General Mitchell at HQ, every bit as flustered as you might imagine for a man who was at best an accidental commander—and I say that with nothing but love for the guy. He'd agree with me, too. He wasn't wild about being in charge. And being put on the spot in front of a general? Being asked to explain his peculiar style of leadership? He looked like a beaten-down puppy. He was scared. But with the best of intentions and the biggest heart in all of Korea, he got up in front of God and General Mitchell and declared that yes, sure, he gave aid and comfort to the 'enemy,' if you wanted to call it that. He helped this nurse who runs an orphanage near here, Nurse Cratty? He gave supplies to her, to make life easier for the orphans and pregnant women under her care. And if the general didn't approve of that, then fine, Henry said, 'hang my butt from a flagpole.' I'm telling you, I don't think I was ever prouder of him than I was at that moment." Hawkeye beamed, and the affection he had for his late C.O. was palpable. "Needless to say, the charges against him were dropped."

"Score one for the good guys," B.J. said, lifting an imaginary glass in toast.

"Yeah," Hawkeye sighed, leaning back on one arm, bobbing his fishing rod in the water. "Henry Blake was most definitely one of the good guys. I loved that big lug."

For a moment, B.J. couldn't come up with any kind of response; every thought that came to mind was a cliché that probably would've sounded hollow or patronizing, or both. He didn't know Hawkeye very well yet—oh, they'd bonded quickly and intensely, especially that first day, but in quiet moments like this one, B.J. often wasn't sure how to proceed. He was still feeling out the guy, still learning him, and there were times when that uncertainty rendered B.J. mute. Finally he realized that what _he _said didn't matter; the important thing was listening to what Hawkeye had to say. He reeled in his line, cast it out again a little farther, and finally ventured: "I wish I'd known him—he sounds like my kind of guy. You got any more stories where that one came from?"

Hawkeye laughed at that. "Oh hell yes. I could tell Henry stories all day."

"Well feel free. We're not going anywhere… just sitting here waiting for the fish to bite. Go ahead, regale me."

Hawkeye shifted again, getting more comfortable and gathering his thoughts. B.J. looked out at the water as he waited. Eventually Hawkeye's deep, honeyed voice began: "If the 4077th is one big loopy, dysfunctional family, then Henry Blake was the cockeyed, fun-loving uncle who looked perfectly at home under a lampshade…"

B.J. lifted his face to the sun and smiled as he listened, fully aware that this was his family now, too… and already he was crazy about them.


End file.
